


Tell me more and more and then some

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. What if Will and Mac had been still together when she was stabbed in Islamabad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I want more and then some of that

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. This was inspired by many things. First, simplyprologue's amazing "the trick of it is." Second, the West Wing episode "Gaza" and thirdly, copious amounts of whiskey last night. Whiskey helps me think. 
> 
> So Will and Mac never broke up the first time. Brian existed, Mac just never told Will about it. The title comes from the Nina Simone song, and I think that about covers it. Please let me know what you thought and whether I should continue! Thanks!

“Will,” Charlie’s voice was serious, and Will paused what he was doing to glance up.

“Jesus, Charlie you look like hell,” Will smirked. Charlie doesn’t reply, but the look on his face makes Will’s stomach drop.

“Will,” Charlie repeated. “Something’s happened.”

* * *

It doesn’t take very long to arrange a flight to Germany. Charlie makes the appropriate phone calls and sends someone to Will and Mac’s apartment to pack a bag for him, because Will is motionless in his chair, an unlit cigarette in one hand.

“Will,” Charlie speaks up. “We need to get you to the airport.” And Will climbs to his feet, his body heavy, and follows silently.

* * *

It’s the longest flight of his life.

 _“Will, something’s happened. Mackenzie was covering a protest, I don’t have all the details, but she’s been stabbed. They’re stabilizing her in the field and then transporting her to the hospital on the base in Landstahl. If you catch a flight, you can be there shortly after she arrives._ ”

Will sighs and rests his head against the First Class seat.

It had been a fight, Mackenzie wanting to go over to cover some of the war. It had been a huge, blowout fight which had ended with his wife in tears and more determined than before to go.

_“I’ve lived an ultra-privileged life, Will,” Mac had argued. “I can do this. I want to do this. I want to prove that I can.”_

He hadn’t been able to talk her out of it, although God knows he tried.

_“I know you can do this, sweetheart. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he had finally said. But he knew this was a fight he wasn’t going to win, not when she was sobbing into her hands, her shoulders heaving up and down and breath catching. He was never much good at standing his ground when she cried. It unnerved him. “It’s horribly selfish of me, and I don’t give two fucks. I don’t want you anywhere near that. I want you here. Safe. With me. It’s not safe there. It’s not.”_

She had promised to be safe. Had promised over and over again, promised she wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks, and she had so fucking excited that Will didn’t have the heart to keep trying to talk her out of it. She hired some young kid, a producer, named Jim Harper to accompany her, and Will had gone to the airport to see both of them off. Jim had been nervous, wiping sweaty hands on his jeans as he shook Will’s hand, but Mac had buzzing with excitement, unable to stand still for more than a few minutes, bouncing from foot to foot and twisting her wedding ring around. She had slid off her engagement ring, afraid something would happen to it while she was gone, pressing into his palm and closing his fingers around it.

_“Keep it safe for me, would you?” The smile she had given him was so wide he thought her face might crack in half, and he had pressed a kiss against her smiling lips._

_“Come back to me, yeah?” He whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around her for a moment, squeezing her to him, trying to memorize the way she felt and the way she smelled. “Be safe.”_

_“I love you,” she had told him sincerely as Jim helped her gather her bags. “I’ll see you in three weeks.”_

That had been exactly two and a half weeks ago. Fuck, they had been so close to her being home, being back in New York and safe, safe, _safe_.

The flight attendant brings him another drink, and his hands shake as he lifts it to his lips, draining it quickly and flagging her down for another.

He couldn’t stand the thought that while he was flying, while he was up here in the air, cut off from the world, his wife could be dying, could be, _oh God damn it_ , could be dead. He was sporadically checking his email, but most were from people who had heard the news and were contacting him to get information about Mac’s condition. The fact that he didn’t know Mac’s condition was making him lose his mind.

If she didn’t survive this, he wouldn’t either. It was as simple as that.

* * *

_Something’s happened._ That’s what Charlie had said. Those two words had pulled the bottom out of Will’s world.

Jim Harper had called Charlie. He had called Charlie instead of Will because Mac had told him to.

_“That means she was awake,” Will had said, and Charlie had nodded, but his mouth was still set in a grim line. “That’s good, right? That has to be good?” Will was holding onto any small sliver of hope he could find, holding onto it tightly._

_“Jim didn’t tell me much,” Charlie reported. “Just that when he asked her if he should call you, she told him to call me instead.” His beautiful, thoughtful wife. Even while lying in the hot, dusty desert, bleeding to death (God no, please no, please), and delirious from pain and heat, she was still thinking of Will; still trying to protect Will._

_“That has to be good,” Will repeated._

* * *

The plane bumped along the runway, and it had barely stopped when Will was on his feet, his small carry-on clutched in his hands, pushing his way off the plane. There’s a car waiting for him when he gets through Customs (he needs to remember to thank Charlie), and he’s immediately whisked away to the base and to the hospital.

He abandons his bag with the driver, who promises to get them to the hotel where Will is supposed to be staying (like he gives a flying fuck what happens to his bag. And also, like he’s going to be anywhere but Mackenzie’s side until she’s on a plane home with him), and sprints into the hospital, shouting at the nurses and only feeling slightly guilty about that. He feels off balanced, and he needs to see Mac, he needs to make sure she’s okay.

When he gets the hall, he sees Jim Harper slumped against the wall, his clothes still stained a dark red (Mac’s blood, oh _Jesus_ ), his head in his hands. Will’s heart stops and for a moment he thinks the worst, until Jim’s head lifts.

“Where is she? Is she okay? What happened? Where is she?” Will asks frantically. “Is she okay?” What he means is, is she still alive? But he can’t bring himself to say those words, because what if the answer is no? What the fuck will he do then?

“She’s in there,” Jim jerks a thumb to the door behind him. “I don’t know...I stopped listening to the doctor, honestly, after he said she was going to be all right.” Jim lets out a shuddering sigh, and Will doubles over from the relief, resting his hands on his knees and feeling shaky and unstable for a moment.

She’s going to be okay.

“Okay,” Will says, straightening up, relief, hot and overwhelming, rushing over him. “I’ll find a doctor, thanks.” He owes this kid so much. He owes this kid goddamn everything.

He’ll find out more, later, find out how Jim carried his wife in his arms through the surging crowd, his hands sticky with her blood. He would find out how Jim walked for a long time with Mac’s limp body, walked until he found an American solider. How Mac’s raspy voice had asked Jim to call Charlie instead of her husband, but had made Jim promise that if something happened to her, if she didn’t make it, he would tell Will that she loved him.

 _“Also tell him he’s allowed to say I told you so,” she had wheezed, giving Jim a pained, small smile_.

And Jim, terrified and trembling, had sworn the most solemn of promises to Mac, and then had been pushed out of the room while the doctors and nurses swarmed around her.

Will leaves Jim against the wall, and pushes the door open softly, his breath catching at the sight of his wife. She's hurt, but she's _alive_ , and after running through all of the worst case scenarios on the neverending flight over here, just seeing her is enough to help steady him. He brushes a gentle kiss on her forehead, and collapses into the chair next to the bed, reaching for her hand and watching as her chest moves up and down.

He rests his head on the bed, and closes his eyes for a moment. She’s okay. He knows he should probably find a doctor, but for now, he just wants to sit here, her hand tangled in his, her breathing even and reassuring.

So he does.


	2. I love you only dear

Will wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, slumped against his wife's bedside. The doctor had come and gone, and Will knew he should have listened better, but all he had heard was that she was going to be okay, and then there was a buzzing in his head that drowned everything else out.

_"The knife nicked her spleen, and there was a lot of internal bleeding. She should be very grateful to whoever got help to her so quickly," the doctor had said. "We had to remove the spleen, so she'll have to be careful of infections, but we're confident she'll make a full recovery."_

Jim. Jim had gotten her help quickly, carried her body through the protest and to safety. He was still sitting against the wall out in the hallway as far as Will knew. He already decided that kid had a job at ACN if he wanted it. Had a job for _life._

There was an ugly wound which would be an ugly scar on her abdomen. Will had refused to leave the room when the nurse had changed Mac's bandage, and the nurse had obviously decided to choose her battles carefully. The doctor had assured him that the fact that she was still not awake was nothing to be concerned about.

_"Her body has gone through a lot of trauma. She'll wake up when she's ready," he assured Will_.

Well, _Will_ was ready for her to wake up even if she wasn't. He wasn't the most patient under normal circumstances, but waiting for Mac's eyes to open was akin to torture. Charlie had called several times to get an update, but for the past few times, Will had nothing new to report. She was okay. She was still unconscious. Will was going to get her transferred on a plane back to New York as soon as he was able to arrange it. It helped, in these situations, to have friends in high places, and Will didn't care what kind of strings had to be pulled, he wanted his wife back home immediately.

A soft knock on the door startled Will out of his deep brooding, and he turned to find Jim Harper standing in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets. At some point he must have left the hospital, or at least left the hallway, because he was wearing a new shirt, one _not_ covered in Mac's blood.

"I just wanted to see if you needed anything," Jim offered.

"No, I'm good, I just need..." Will just needed Mac, but he didn't say that, he shook his head instead. "No. Thank you."

“Well, I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” Jim gestured to the hallway, and started to back out of the room when Will called out his name.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” He asked. “It’s got to be more comfortable than the floor. Besides, my lovely wife here is taking her good old time waking up, so she’s not exactly the best company right about now.” Jim came around to the other chair and dropped into it. They sat for a moment, neither saying anything, until Will cleared his throat.

“I need to thank you.”

“For what?” Jim looked genuinely confused.

“For saving Mac,” Will said plainly. Jim looked uncomfortable then, shifting in his seat.

“I didn’t really do anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done,” Jim insisted. Will disagreed, but decided that it would be better to show Jim his appreciation than try to convince him that he deserved it, and had already mentioned to Charlie about putting Jim on his team.

“Can I ask you a question?” Will asked after another moment’s pause. “You could go home, you know, you don’t have to sit here outside of Mac’s room. Why are you still here?” Jim looked stricken for a second, Will could see the hurt flicker across his face. He hadn’t meant for the question to be rude, although he knew that was how it had come across.

_“Darling, sometimes you’re very blunt,” Mac had told him time and again. “A little tact would go a long way.”_

His wife kept him moderately agreeable and tolerable most of the time. He suspected that without her he’d be a real asshole. Charlie had even mentioned something along those lines once.

_“Probably if it wasn’t for Mackenzie, most of your staff would have defected a long time ago,” he had told Will, and his tone had been half teasing, but half serious, and Will grunted an acknowledgement._

“Do you want me to leave?” Jim asked, and Will began to shake his head.

“No, no,” Will replied. For what felt like the three thousandth time that hour, he wished that Mac was awake. She acted occasionally like his translator when he was blundering something.

_“I speak Will-ese,” she teased._

“I just meant…you’ve only known Mac for less than three weeks, and while I’m beyond grateful that you were there,” that was an understatement, “the hospital isn’t exactly a pleasant place to be, and no one would think less of you if you wanted to hop on a plane and get the hell back home.” To Will’s relief, Jim nodded.

“I couldn’t leave before she wakes up,” Jim shrugged. “I couldn’t possibly…” A smile ghosted across his face. “I know I’ve only known her for three weeks, but it feels like longer. It feels like I’ve known her for years, and I don’t know if that’s her or what we went through in those three weeks, but if she’s here, then I want to be here, if that’s all right with you, of course. I’m not sure…am I making any sense?”

“You can be here as long as you want or need to be,” Will answered. He liked this kid; he liked him a lot. And he knew Mac liked him too. She went on and on about him in her emails to Will.

_“He’s great, Will. I don’t know what I’d do without him here.”_

Mac and Will were both big on loyalty, and Will could already tell this kid had it in spades.

“Thanks,” Jim looked relieved, and settled a little more comfortably in the chair.

* * *

Will had met Mackenzie on a Tuesday. She was a senior producer at the time, having just been brought over from CNN. He noticed two things about her: she was fucking brilliant and fucking beautiful.

_“Mackenzie McHale,” she had introduced, holding out her hand for Will to shake. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”_

Her British lilt was adorable, and when they went to sit down around the conference table, she chose the seat right next to his. The fact that she was so close was distracting and Will had to ask Charlie to repeat himself at least three times.

Will fell hard and fast for Mac, but when she first started working with him, she had a boyfriend. A total asshole named Brian Brenner who wrote for Newsweek and thought that print media was somehow more noble than television and made sure to remind Mac of that every chance he could. Will found him unbearable and couldn’t imagine what Mackenzie saw in him.

He stayed late one night in his office, and he thought that the newsroom was empty, but he spied Mac hunched over her desk, her shoulders moving up and down and realized that she was crying.

_“Mac?” His voice broke the quiet stillness and he saw her stiffen and then turn._

_“Oh, I thought I was alone,” she muttered, wiping at her cheeks furiously. “I’m sorry. I’m leaving now.” She jumped to her feet, grabbing her coat off the back of her seat so quickly that her chair rocked back._

_“Is something wrong?” He immediately felt like an idiot saying it, because of course something was wrong. She was sitting in a dark, empty office crying._

_“It’s stupid, it’s nothing,” she waved off his concern. “I didn’t think anyone was still here.” She bit her lip, and Will moved towards her._

_“What happened?” He asked gently, and her mouth trembled._

_“My idiot boyfriend broke up with me,” her voice cracked, and Will had to agree with the idiot part. What person in their right mind gave up Mackenzie McHale? “He did it over email. Can you believe that? What an asshole.”_

_“I’m so sorry, Mackenzie,” Will said sincerely, because although he would be the first to admit that he wasn’t necessarily sorry that Brian and Mac’s relationship was over, he also didn’t want to see her hurt and upset._

_“Thanks,” she mumbled._

_“Can I buy you a drink?” He offered, and she started to shake her head, but then reconsidered._

_“I could use a drink,” she admitted, and he offered his arm and she took it gratefully._

He bought her enough drinks that night to get her pretty good and toasted, and then bundled her into a cab and made sure she got up to her apartment. She had leaned forward at the end of the evening and for a split, heart stopping moment he thought she might kiss him, but instead she brushed her lips along his cheek and thanked him for being such a good guy.

_“You’re a good man, Will McAvoy,” she insisted, and then drunkenly teetered off into her apartment_.

He wanted to ask her out immediately, but he made himself wait. The last thing he wanted was to be her rebound. It was too important, _she_ was too important to mess up.

He waited.


	3. Oh how you feel

Will finally convinced Jim to use the room that was booked for him at the hotel to get some sleep.

"It's your room, shouldn't you go back and get some sleep?" Jim asked.

"I'm not going anywhere. It would take an extreme and powerful force to move me from this chair before her eyes open," Will answered. Even after her eyes had opened, it still would take probably an entire army to get him to leave her side. "I'm fine. You've been up for what, 48 hours at this point? You deserve to get some sleep." Jim nodded, heaving himself to his feet and promising to be back after he had gotten a few hours of sleep.

"We'll be here," Will had answered, his hand still tightly wrapped around Mac's. Jim hesitated at the door.

"Call me, you know, if she wakes up?" Jim asked, rubbing a hand through his hair making it stick up everywhere. He looked so earnest and so goddamn _young_.

"Yeah, absolutely kid," Will promised. "Go get some sleep." And Jim left then, the door shutting softly behind him, leaving Will alone again with his wife.

* * *

It took a little over three months for Will to get the opportunity to ask Mac on a date. She had thrown herself into work after her break-up with Brian. She was there later than anyone else, and at her desk earlier than anyone else, Will included. She had brilliant ideas and an unmatched enthusiasm and it wasn't long before Charlie approached Will about maybe promoting her. His current EP, Ira, was in talks to take over a job at MSNBC. No one was supposed to know about it, so of course everyone knew about it.

Will was only marginally upset. He didn't keep EPs very long. He had a reputation of being hard to work with, which he wouldn't necessarily disagree with. He was demanding, sure, but it was only because he wanted to produce quality work. He was demanding of everyone, including and probably _especially_ himself. He was only vaguely annoyed that he would have to get used to someone else's voice in his ear, but when Charlie suggested Mac, he practically pushed Ira out the door.

_"What do you think of Mackenzie McHale moving up?" Charlie had suggested over lunch one day, and Will's head shot up and he bit down a smile._

_"She's smart and a hell of a worker," Will answered. He left out: and beautiful and funny and I'm pretty sure I'm in love with her. Though the smirk on Charlie's face told Will that maybe he wasn't doing as good of a job at hiding his crush as he thought he had been._

Will got to be the one to offer the position to her, and he wouldn't forget the way that her face lit up. She squealed unprofessionally and threw her arms around his neck, before composing herself, blushing embarrassedly, and straightening out her shirt.

_"I won't let you down," she swore and he gave her a gentle smile in return._

_"I know you won't," he assured her. "Congratulations, Mac. You deserve it."_

She shifted so seamlessly into the role of executive producer that Will almost forgot that she hadn't been his EP forever. They were completely in sync from the beginning. Will forgot how much _fun_ work could be. And it didn't hurt that now she was his EP they were spending even more time together.

After work one night, after a month or so of Mac being promoted, she appeared in his office doorway. She bit her lip in the way that he had noticed she did when she was thinking hard about something. He found it, like he found most things when it came to her, fucking adorable.

_"What's up?" He asked._

_"I was just seeing if you were around for a drink," she suggested. He tried to ignore the way his pulse sped up._

_"Sure, I uh, yeah, I could do that," he grabbed his coat and wallet and followed her out before she could change her mind._

_They went to a little bar down the street from the studio and only after Jamesons on the rocks did she lean forward, her hand coming down onto his thigh and her breath warm in his ear, and asked,_

_"Are you ever going to ask me out on a date? I've been waiting forever."_

* * *

Will shifted. The chair had stopped being comfortable after hour two, and became unbearable after hour nine, and there was still no sign of movement from Mac.

Jim had been gone for a little more than three hours, and Will hoped the kid was getting some rest. God knows he deserved it.

The nurse had come in to check on Mackenzie a little while ago and Will had asked, for probably the eighteenth time, whether it was normal for Mac to still be unconscious.

"I just thought she'd be awake by now," Will huffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"She lost a lot of blood, Mr. McAvoy," the nurse explained gently. "You have to give her body time to recover."

"But you're sure she's going to make a full recovery?" He wouldn't believe it, not really, not _completely,_ until Mac told him herself.

"Yes, sir," the nurse nodded. "The doctors are very confident that she'll be just fine."

"Very confident?" Will repeated, but the nurse knew better than to get into semantics with Will. She gave him a sympathetic smile, checked a few things (Will had no idea what did what, and he didn't think he necessarily wanted to know. She was going to be okay. That was all he cared about), and then hurried out of the room. Will's phone buzzed and he glanced down to see Charlie's name on the screen. He leaned over, pressing a light kiss to Mac's forehead, before stepping out into the hallway to answer.

"How's our girl?" Charlie's booming voice came down the line and Will sighed.

"The same," he answered.

"She's going to be okay," Charlie reminded Will.

Charlie, being Charlie, had known that Will was in no shape to remember what the doctor had said, so he had called the hospital himself, listening carefully to all the things that were wrong and what the next steps to Mac's recovery were going to be.

"Yeah," Will didn't sound convinced, and Charlie wished that he could have gone with Will or that he could have sent someone with him so that he didn't have to go through this alone. But he knew that the only person that Will wanted was in a hospital bed recovering from a stabbing.

Charlie wished for not the first or last time that he hadn't suggested the trip to Mackenzie in the first place. He needed someone to go, but it didn't have to be her, he hadn't even _thought_ about her going. She was the executive producer, and Will's _wife_ , for God's sake. But when he had mentioned it, her eyes had lit up.

_"I'd like to go, Charlie," she insisted._  
  
 _"Mac," Charlie had hesitated, knowing that this would go over like a lead balloon with Will. "It's really not a job for an executive producer."_

But Mac would not be deterred. She had gotten in her head that she wanted to do this, and no amount of pleading from Will, or reasoning from Charlie could talk her out of it. Will had even pulled Charlie aside, his voice harsh and demanding.  
  
 _"Just tell her she can't fucking go," Will hissed. "It's not that hard."_

Will had been angry, at Mac, at Charlie, but what Charlie caught and couldn't stop thinking about now, was that more than anything Will had been _scared_.  
  
And fuck, the worst had happened, hadn't it? (No, Charlie thinks. Not the worst. The worst would have been her body coming home in a coffin. There's no way Will would have survived that. If they had lost Mackenzie, they would have lost Will)  
  
Charlie wanted to get on a plane himself and keep Will company sitting vigil at Mac's bedside, but someone had to stay back and make sure things were still running smoothly, or as smoothly as they could with the anchor and executive producer missing. News Night was Mac's baby, and it would kill her, and then she would kill _them_ , if she woke up and things had gone to shit while she was out.  
  
"Keep me updated," Charlie asked before hanging up the phone. Will returned to Mac's side, and picked her hand up, bringing it to his lips and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. He didn't like to see her this still. It was unnatural.  
  
"Wake up, please, sweetheart. Just please wake up."

 


	4. And then you done told me

Will was just drifting off to sleep in the god awful chair when he heard a light groan. His eyes flew open and he sat up straight.

“Mac? Honey?” He watched as her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked blearily, a confused frown on her face. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let me just go get the doctor, I’m just going to go get the doctor.” He stood up, but she reached out a hand and grabbed at his weakly and he immediately sank back into the chair.

“Will?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Hi, honey,” he smiled at her, relieved tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “God Mac, you have no idea…you have…” his voice trailed off, as he leaned over and pressed tiny, gentle kisses to her cheeks. “I need to go get the doctor, honey, I’ll be right back, okay?” He stood on shaky legs and stepped outside of her room. He had been waiting for days for this, and now that she was awake he was feeling a little bit overwhelmed.

He needed to call Charlie. And Jim. God, Jim.

Jim was keeping him sane. The quiet of Mac’s room, save for her soft breathing (which thank God, thank God, thank _God_ for that quiet breathing), had been driving Will crazy. At least with Jim there Will had something to focus on other than wondering if the doctors had been wrong about Mac being okay. Wondering why she wasn’t awake yet. Wondering if they had missed something.

He and Jim sat and talked about baseball and the European Union and college football and the United States economy and the war in Afghanistan. They talked about Mackenzie and traded stories about her. Will had more, but he wanted to hear about what the past few weeks had been like for her.

Even before _this_ , the past few weeks had been _awful_ for him. He had spent every night in their too big bed in their too empty apartment waiting for her to be able to get a strong enough internet signal to Skype him. He knew down to the minute when she was coming home.

Jim had been a permanent fixture in Mac’s room since he had gotten back from getting a few hours of sleep, parked in the chair on the opposite side of Will, and had only left to go get the two of them some food.

“You _have_ to eat something,” Jim had insisted, and Will liked that the kid was feeling bolder with him the longer they sat in Mac’s room together. Jim had been campaigning for the past few hours to get Will to go back to the hotel room and try to get some real sleep, but that was a battle that Jim was just not going to win.

Will shot off a quick text to Charlie while the doctor was in with Mac, telling him that she awake and that Will didn’t know more than that, but he would keep him posted. He stepped back into the room and stood back against the wall, and didn’t miss the relief on Mac’s tired face when she spotted him.

“Is everything okay?” He asked the doctor, and the doctor gave both Mac and Will a reassuring smile.

“Everything’s fine,” he assured, and the relief washed over Will like a wave, and he staggered to the chair and dropped hard into it, grabbing at Mac’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

He hadn’t let himself believe that everything would be okay until right at this moment. He lived his life waiting for the other shoe to drop, and he had been waiting, holding his breath, since the moment he stepped off the plane in Germany for the worst to happen. For his future to reshape into something that he didn’t want, couldn’t handle.

When the doctor left, Will pressed a fierce kiss to Mac’s temple and she gave him a small, exhausted smile.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know,” he told her. “You’ve got no idea the kind of shit that’s been running through my head for the past few days. You aren’t allowed to go _anywhere_ without me again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. They heard a throat clear behind them and Mac smiled at the sight of Jim, hands shoved in his pockets, back hunched, and a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hi Mac,” Jim’s voice was gentle, and he made the tiniest step into the room.

“Hi Jim,” Mac replied. “I think I owe you a great deal of gratitude.” And Jim blushed, hanging his head slightly.

“You don’t. I mean, I didn’t…I’m just glad you’re okay, it’s nothing that anyone else wouldn’t have…I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Jim stuttered.

“Come on in, kid,” Will gestured to the chair that Jim had vacated only a little while earlier. “I think we’re losing her to sleep again here soon.” Mac’s eyes were already blinking rapidly, she was trying desperately to stay awake. Will kissed his wife gently on the lips, before dropping a soft kiss to her forehead and running his thumb down her cheek. “It’s okay sweetheart. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

* * *

After Mac made the first move, Will was determined to really woo her. He had a plan, and it was a great plan, it was a fantastic fucking plan. The date was supposed to be romantic and elegant and what it actually turned out to be was a disaster.

Mac’s heel broke when she stepped out of the car in front of the restaurant, the waitress spilled a glass of red wine down the front of Mac’s beautiful silk dress, the kitchen fucked up Mac’s dinner _twice_ , and Will was half afraid that she would demand to be taken home and never speak to him again (although he knew logically that she would _have_ to speak to him again. She _was_ his executive producer).  But instead she tilted her head back and laughed. Laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. He was stunned at first, still stuttering apologies.

_“I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating, and she shook her head._

_“It’s okay,” she insisted. “Really.”_

_"I’ll buy you a new dress,” he said._

_"You don’t have to,” Mac continued to laugh._

_“Are you okay?” Her laughter was starting to unhinge him. “I’m not sure exactly what’s so funny._

_“It’s just…I had an idea of how this night was going to go,” Mac explained, calming down slightly. “And this was not it. It’s not your fault, really, but I’m covered in wine, my shoe is broken, and I’m starving, I’m really fucking hungry.”_

_"Let’s go,” he decided, throwing his napkin on the table. “I know this great little place that makes a mean burger. And the best part is that if we call on our way they’ll have them waiting for us.” He threw down some money on the table, enough to cover the bill, and drained his drink, holding out a hand and tugging her to her feet. She was unsteady on her broken shoe, but she hobbled along behind him, giggling each time she tripped. He waved down a cab and she slid in first, and when they pulled away from the restaurant, she slipped her hand into his._

On the fourth date she came home with him, his hands wandering all over her body as he fumbled for his keys, pushing open his apartment door and tumbling inside. He made her breakfast the next morning, and she had grinned at him as she perched on a stool at his counter, dipping her toast into the egg yolk and looking so adorable that he leaned over the counter to kiss her hard.

" _What was that for?” She asked, her face flushed with happiness._

_"You’re beautiful,” he told her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. He was pretty sure that he was completely head over heels in love with her, but he wasn’t sure how she felt. She kept things close to the chest, and he was never quite sure what was going on in her head._

_“Please, I’m a mess,” she waved away the compliment._

_"Let’s not do anything today,” he suggested. “Let’s hibernate. We can pretend like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.” And she had grinned at the plan, sliding off the stool and coming around to the other side of the counter, pushing him up against it._

_“I think that sounds like a great idea,” she had murmured against his lips. “Great idea.”_

* * *

Mac had fallen back asleep almost immediately, and Jim and Will passed the time by playing cards and watching the news, mocking the anchors and pointing out what they would have done differently.

When there was a quiet moment, Will cleared his throat and looked back at his wife, sleeping soundly and peacefully, and then turned back to Jim.

“When you’re ready, not right now, or anything, but when you feel like you can maybe talk about it,” he finally said. “I want to know…” No, that was wrong. He didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to have to see it in his mind when he closed his eyes. It wasn’t a matter of wanting. “I _need_ to know what happened in Islamabad.” Jim looked pained, his eyes darting over to Mac’s still form in the hospital bed.

“Will,” he started, and Will shook his head.

“I need to know Jim, I need to know what happened,” and Jim finally nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed, against his better judgment. “Okay.”


	5. About a million times

Mac drifted in and out of sleep the next couple of days, and Will finally started to relax a little bit. The plans were made to go home to New York in two day’s time; Will had been reassured no less than seven times that Mac was stable enough to make the trip. He wanted her home desperately, but he wouldn’t have ever done anything to jeopardize her recovery. Jim was set to fly home with them, and Will had already approached him about moving to New York to work for them.

“I’d like to offer you a job,” Will told him as they played cards at the end of Mac’s bed as she slept. Jim’s head shot up.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Will replied.

“You know, you don’t owe me anything, I didn’t,” Jim started. “If you think you have to offer me a job because of what I did, it wasn’t…I mean…” Will held up a hand to interrupt him.

“You would deserve a job because what you did, no question about it,” Will said. “You deserve a lot more than a job for what you did. You _saved_ my wife, Jim. You’re the reason that I still have her, and if you think for one minute that I’m going to forget that, or that it’s not a huge, fucking deal, you’re out of your fucking mind.” He paused, watching as Jim squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, the kid was clearly not used to being praised, and then continued. “But it’s not because of that, well it’s not _only_ because of that. Mac told me over and over again when we would talk or email what a great job you were doing. She said she wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. I think you’d be a great member of our team, and I’d like to hire you as a senior producer. I’m sure my wife will agree.”

“Thanks, Will,” Jim said softly.

“So what’s your answer, kid?” Will asked, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Is it a yes?”

“Of course, yes,” Jim answered immediately.

“I’m glad that’s settled,” a hoarse voice said from the top of the bed, and Will stood to brush a kiss along Mac’s hairline. “Welcome to the team, Jim. You’re going to do great.”

 

* * *

 

Will worried sometimes that he was moving too fast for Mackenzie. He worried that she wasn’t where he was in the relationship, and that she didn’t feel as strongly about him as he did for her. He tried to slow himself down, tried to remind himself that there was no need to rush things. She had just gotten out of a very long, very serious relationship, and that she might need some time.

But it was hard.

He was definitely in love with her. He was in love with everything about her. The only flaw in the whole thing was that he wasn’t always sure what was going through her head. He didn’t know how she felt about him. He told her that he loved her on the sixth date, and she had looked slightly stunned. She had leaned over the table and gave him a fierce kiss, and he had hurriedly paid the bill and rushed out of the restaurant to the car waiting for them, and it didn’t occur to him until later that she hadn’t repeated it back.

Sometimes he caught a look on her face when he told her that he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone, almost a panicked look, her whole body tensing, and he’d back off immediately, changing the subject to work, or sports and she would relax, twine her fingers through his and he wondered if he had made up her look of apprehension.

But they were four months into their relationship, and she still hadn’t told him that she loved him. Every time those words would tumble out of his mouth, she would kiss him, or change the subject and a knot would begin in the pit of his stomach. He would marry her on the spot if he thought she would go for it, and he lived in constant anxiety of pushing her too hard, too fast and losing her.

They were laying on his couch on a lazy Sunday, her body draped over his, and his hand tangled in her hair, and he was ranting about something as the news played in the background, when she giggled.

_“God, I love you, Will,” and he froze and he looked down to see a surprised look on her own face. But then her face split into a smile, so wide that he thought he might fall into it, and she kissed him hard, and repeated it. “I love you, Will.”_

_“I love you too,” he replied, and he loved saying that. Too. He loved her_ too _._

Things moved quickly after that. She had all but moved in, she spent more nights at Will’s place than her own, but she made no move to give up her apartment, and he didn’t say anything about it. He knew her parents were coming into town in a few days, but she hadn’t mentioned her wanting to introduce them, and although he still had the sound of her “I love you” coursing through his veins, he still had doubts about how deep her feelings went, and he was letting her make the decisions about how serious they were.

At dinner the night before her parents’ arrival, she cleared her throat and brought up the subject.

_“So, my parents are in town tomorrow,” she said and he schooled his features into what he hoped was a neutral look when he answered._

_“I remember you saying,” he said. As if it wasn’t all he had been thinking about the past few days._

_“I’d like them to meet you,” Mac said, and he could tell she was nervous by the way she fidgeted in her seat, biting her lip and moving her food around on her plate. “But I understand if you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t feel ready for.” And he immediately reached across and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her open palm._

_“I’d love to meet them,” he told her sincerely, and she smiled, nodding._

_“Good,” she replied. “Okay. Good.”_

 

* * *

 

The flight home to New York was a blur, and Will had never been happier to be home. Mac wasn’t quite ready to be released from the hospital, so the medical transport team took her to Beth Israel, but it was still unbelievably nice to be back in their city.

After they had gotten Mac settled into her private room, Will heard a throat being cleared and looked up to see Charlie standing in the doorway. Mac was fast asleep, her worn and tired body having succumbed to exhaustion as soon as the doctors and nurses had left the room. Jim had caught a flight back to Atlanta, but was starting in their newsroom in a few weeks. Will had given him a hug at the airport, thanking him once again for everything, and Jim had waved over his shoulder as he walked to his gate. Will was more grateful than he could explain for Jim, both for saving Mac and keeping Will company in Germany, but when he spied the New York skyline it was like he was able to take a deep breath again.

God, it was _really_ nice to be home.

“How’s Mac doing?” Charlie asked as he stepped in, clapping a hand down on Will’s shoulder, before grabbing a chair and pulling it up along side Will’s.

“She’s good, stable,” Will replied.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Charlie shot Will a grin, and then turned serious. “And how are _you_ doing?” Will ran a tired hand over his face.

“I’m hanging in there, happy to be home,” he said honestly. “I can’t wait until she’s actually _home_ , but at this point I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Will,” Charlie’s voice was soft, and he reached up to take Mac’s hand.

“It’s not your fault, Charlie,” Will sighed. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Jim still hadn’t told him all the details. He knew the basic facts. A religious protest gone awry. A knife to her abdomen. Jim carrying her through the crowded, hot streets with people pushing in at them from all sides. He filled in the blanks in his head, but he wanted to know exactly what had happened. For him, and for Mac. So that he could help her deal with any residual trauma she would have from the attack.

He didn’t tell anyone that he was terrified of what this would do, emotionally and mentally, to his strong, resilient wife. She would recover physically, and he had finally been able to believe that, but there were bound to be other scars that weren’t visible. He wanted to be able to help her through whatever she needed. And he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what happened.

“I should have said no,” Charlie continued. “When she asked. I should have said no.”

“She wanted to go,” Will insisted. “You and I both know how stubborn she gets when she gets something into her head. You wouldn’t have been able to talk her out of it. She wanted to go, and I was scared out of my fucking mind, but she’s here now, and she’s going to be okay.” Charlie finally nodded, hanging his head slightly before giving Will a small, rueful smile.

“Who would have ever thought it would be _you_ talking me out of feeling guilty about this?” Charlie said. “Listen to yourself, Mr. Logical.” 

Will smiled back, and shrugged.

“Surprised myself too,” he answered. He didn’t tell Charlie the reason that he knew it wasn’t Charlie’s fault that this had happened was because he was pretty convinced that it was _his_ fault, and no amount of logic or reason could convince him otherwise. Charlie couldn’t have talked Mac out of going, but Will should have tried harder. And when it was clear that she wasn’t going to be talked out of it, he should have gone with her. It shouldn’t have been Jim cradling her bleeding body through the streets of Islamabad, it should have been _Will_.  Mac was _his_ wife, and he shouldn’t have let her go to a dangerous, war torn county without him by her side.

If he thought the guilt would ease once they were home in New York, Will was wrong, it was pressing on him from all sides.

Charlie nodded, and pulled out a couple of crossword puzzles.

“You’re staying?” Will asked.

“Thought I’d keep the two of you company,” Charlie answered, and Will had a feeling that Charlie would understand if he had asked him about the guilt eating away at him, that no amount of words would convince Charlie this wasn’t his fault either.

Will wanted to say more, but it was nice, having Charlie there, having someone ease the burden, and so he accepted the other crossword puzzle that Charlie offered and tried to be content with the fact that they were home, at the very least. 


	6. How much you love me

Mac was not a great patient. And the hospital, with the doctors and nurses coming and going, was not exactly the most restful place. He knew that Mac, being who she was and considering who she was married to, had been getting more attention and care than the average patient, but all that meant was that more people were poking and prodding at her more often. She was miserable, and he was miserable, and he just wanted to be able to take her home.

  
"I'm never leaving the country again," Mac groaned after the nurse left. Will had been catching up on work, his laptop balanced on his knees, and he saved what he was working on and glanced up at her. "If this is what happens when I do leave, that's it. I'm staying on American soil."

  
"You won't get me to disagree," Will answered with a grin. She was finally starting to get more color in her cheeks, and was staying awake more often than she was sleeping, both good recovery signs. She was also getting antsy about the amount of work she was missing, pestering Will to at least let her check her emails. So far he was refusing, and she was still too weak to effectively argue her case.  
Charlie was a constant visitor, as were some of their staff members. Slowly, Mac and Will had built a good team, and he had been warmed by the way that they had all pitched in to cover for them while Mac recovered. Will was set to go back on air for the first time that evening, and he wasn't looking forward to having someone other than his wife in his ear. He was also a little nervous about leaving her alone; he hadn't left her side for more than an hour or so since arriving at her hospital bed in Germany. He hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in days, despite the nurses thoughtfully providing a cot for him in Mac's room, and it was starting to show. Mac had begun campaigning to get him to go home and get some actual sleep in their bed, but the thought of returning to their bed without her was enough to make him queasy. He wouldn't sleep without her by his side, he argued, so what was the point? He'd rather be on an uncomfortable cot listening to the sound of her breathing, than in their big, lonely bed worrying about her across town.

  
He'd been home exactly three times, in order to grab some things they both needed and to take a quick shower, and the quietness of the apartment was suffocating. Her book was still on the nightstand, turned over keeping her place, and the pajamas she had worn the night before she left were thrown over the armchair in their room. For a heartbreaking moment he had let himself imagine what it would have been like to step into their apartment had she _not_ made it, and it hit him so hard in the gut that he was breathless for a second. He couldn't imagine coming home to find pieces of her scattered throughout their home, and knowing that she would never finish that book, or wear those clothes, or curl up under the impossibly soft wool blanket that she had found in Ireland on their last trip. He had immediately dialed her room in the hospital, not caring if he woke her up or not, just needing to talk to her, needing to hear her voice. He had almost _lost_ her. They hadn't had nearly enough time together yet. His fingers trembled as he dialed, and she had answered on the third ring, and he could hear the confusion in her voice.

  
"You just left here like twenty minutes ago," she reminded him with a light laugh. "Miss me already?"

  
"You have no idea," he replied, and his heart rate started to return to normal just talking to her. He had showered in record time, grabbing a clean pair of pajamas for her and rushing out of the apartment and back to her side.  
 Mac could argue with him to go home and sleep in their bed until she was blue in the face. He wasn't going home until she was going home with him. He hadn’t wanted to go back to work until she was by his side either, but he had already asked his staff to stretch themselves to the limit, and since Mac was out for the foreseeable future, Will was unfortunately needed in the office. 

  
Charlie had asked him if he wanted to make a statement about Mac publicly. 

  
"It's out there," Charlie had explained apologetically. "Unfortunately, you are a celebrity, and she's your wife and she was stabbed at a religious protest. It's news."

  
"Do we really _need_ to say something, you think?" Will asked.

  
"I don't think it would hurt just to thank people for their thoughts and prayers and to say that you were happy to have Mac back home again," Charlie shrugged. Happy to have Mac home again was an understatement, but Will nodded and allowed it to be added to his script for the night. 

  
Will closed his laptop and stood, stretching his legs and leaning down to give her a soft kiss. He ran a hand through her hair, and then a thumb softly down her cheek. He couldn't stop looking at her, couldn't stop touching her, couldn't stop marveling that she was here, and okay, and all _his._

  
"Are you going to watch tonight?" He asked.

  
"Are you kidding me?" Mac answered with a smile. "Of course I'm going to watch tonight. And you better bring it, otherwise I'll be whining more than I already am to be allowed back in the studio."

  
"More?" He grinned at her. "Impossible." Charlie was going to come and sit with her while Will went into the office, something she had vehemently argued against, but he had stood firm. 

  
"Tough shit," he told her. "Charlie's will be here until I get back."

  
"Will," she had tried, and he had shrugged.

  
"What are you going to do about it? You're stuck in that bed. You have no cards to play, I've got all the cards." She pouted, and while that normally worked, while he was generally useless in the face of her pout, when it came to her health he wouldn't negotiate.

  
"You're going to be great tonight," Mac said as he gave her another kiss.

  
"You think?" He asked, and she nodded.

  
"You're great every night," she said softly and he dropped his head so that his face was buried in her hair. He couldn't live without her. He couldn't, couldn't, _couldn't._ And he thanked every deity that would listen that he didn’t have to learn how to.

* * *

The meeting with the McHales had gone well, and Will discovered that he didn’t have a reason to be nervous. Her parents were wonderful, and they seemed to like him, which was a huge relief. He kept catching Mac’s eye at dinner and she looked so happy, glancing between her parents and him, and he knew that he had done well. They had bundled her parents into a cab, and made promises to meet them for breakfast the next morning, and once the car had driven away, Mac threw herself into his arms, kissing him senseless.

_“They loved you,” she squealed._

_“You sound surprised,” his words were softened by a soft smile, and she had shrugged._

_“Not surprised, just relieved,” she answered honestly. “I really wanted them to like you.” He kissed her again, tugging her closer._

_“I really wanted them to like me too,” he replied, and grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a waiting car._

Three weeks after he met her parents he broached the subject of maybe taking her home to meet his family in Nebraska. He hadn’t said much to her about his childhood, but she had gotten the general idea that it hadn’t been exactly a Norman Rockwell kind of affair. His mother had died a few years before, he didn’t speak to his father, hadn’t in years, and his brother lived in Arizona or maybe New Mexico, he wasn’t sure, but his sisters still lived outside of Lincoln, not far from where he grew up.

When Will asked her, Mac had lit up. He had come to her office, knocking lightly on the door, and she had been engrossed in what she was doing, but after he cleared his throat a few times, she finally looked up and smiled broadly. It was a smile that she reserved just for him, and when she looked at him like that he forgot to worry that he was moving too fast for her.

_“I’d love to,” she said, beaming at him._

_“Okay, well, great, we’ll go then,” he tapped his knuckles on the top of her desk. “I’ll make the flight arrangements. There’s a hotel not too far from my sister Carol’s house. It has some cheesy name, the Cornhusker or something like that, but it’s close and if I remember correctly they have an excellent omelet bar in the morning.” She had grinned._

_“The Cornhusker? Is that where you bring all the girls to stay in_ _Nebraska_ _? Hoping to woo them with the omelet bar?” She teased, but the grin slid off her face when she saw the serious look on his._

_“You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought home,” he told her before turning and walking out of her office._

The weekend in Nebraska was nice. Mac was clearly out of place, both her clothing and her personality did not exactly fit into the standard Midwestern values, but she never made a sound about feeling uncomfortable. His sisters warmed to her immediately, telling Will whenever they had a chance how much they liked her, and how good for him they thought she was.

He took her to the baseball field where he hit his first home run, and past his old high school, pointing out the place where he had gotten his first kiss.

_“Oh yeah?” Mac laughed. “From whom?”_

_“Linda Rakers,” he replied._

_“Was she pretty?” Mac asked, and it was his turn to laugh._

_“You jealous?”_

_“Answer the question, McAvoy,” she insisted, but the corners of her mouth tugged up and he kissed her smiling lips._

_“Not as pretty as you,” he told her._

_“You’re such a smooth talker,” she giggled._

_“If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure it was a terrible kiss,” he admitted. She made him park the rental car, and she climbed out, crooking a finger to get him to follow._

_“What are you doing?” He asked, following her to the spot where he had given Linda Rakers a sloppy, awkward kiss in the seventh grade. When he got close enough to her, she grabbed his t-shirt and tugged him towards her._

_“Let’s see if you’ve learned anything since then,” her voice was husky, and it took all his willpower not to push her up against the tree and kiss her senseless._

* * *

 

His phone rang as soon as he stepped out from behind the desk, and he answered it immediately.

“You should have followed up with questions about the Senator’s environmental voting record,” his wife said by way of greeting.

“Other than that, how’d I do?” Will asked.

“Other than that glaring omission? You were great, just like I said you would be,” Mac replied. “Charlie said to tell you that tie looked terrible.”

“He did not,” Will laughed, and God, did he miss having her in his ear that night.

“You’re right, _I_ need to tell you that tie looked terrible,” she corrected.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. He was back in his office and he had placed the phone down and put her on speaker phone so that he could shrug off his jacket. He loosened the knot on the tie that Mac had declared terrible, and undid the cufflinks on his shirt.

“Fine, you should go home and get some sleep tonight,” she tried.

“Fat chance,” he shot back, and she huffed. “Hey, I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied, and disconnected the call. He sighed, sinking into his chair and letting himself relax for a minute. He rummaged through his drawer to find the pack of cigarettes he hid from Mac. He had promised her that he would quit at least four times, and he had been doing well for the most part, but sometimes he just needed a damn cigarette.

 He let himself smoke exactly one before packing up his briefcase and some work that he could do in the hospital the next day, and hurrying back to her side.


	7. I want more some more

Will helped Mac into their apartment and straight back to the bedroom. She was still recovering, but she was home, and it was a huge step in the right direction. She breathed out when they stepped inside, giving his hand a squeeze.

“It’s so nice to be home,” she murmured, and he pressed a kiss to her temple.

He had brought work with him home, and there was plenty to do, even more considering he was also covering for Mac, but when he got her settled in bed, he decided all of it could wait. He climbed in next to her, pulling her close for the first time in weeks, molding his body around hers. 

She was asleep within minutes, his body warm and solid wrapped around hers, and he lay beside her, his fingers carding through her hair for a long time, listening to the sound of her even breathing.

He let himself stay there for a lot longer than he should have, considering all the work that needed to be done, but finally tore himself away, being careful not to wake his sleeping wife.

She was itching to get back to work, and he had promised that if she felt up to it in a few days she could do some work from home, but going into the office was strictly off limits for the time being. There was so much waiting for her back at the office, and she had never been good at restraining herself when it came to work. She would go without meals or without sleep if it meant a better show. She was recovering from a stabbing, and he would be damned if anything happened to her because he let her go back to the office a day sooner.

He was unable to tear himself away from her side completely, so he brought his work into the bedroom, settling himself in a chair, his feet propped up on their bed, his laptop balanced on his knees, while she rested.

When it came time for him to go into the office for the final rundown and the broadcast, he dropped a kiss to her head to wake her, and she stirred, turning to face him and rubbing a tired hand across her face.

“I have to go sweetheart,” he said apologetically.

“You’re not making Charlie come sit with me again, are you?” She asked warily, and he shook his head, and a look of relief shot across her face.

“No Charlie,” he said. “But you aren’t staying here alone. I have a surprise guest to keep you company.” He stepped into the hallway and gestured, and watched as Mac’s face went from skeptical to joy when she spotted Jim.

“Jim!” She cried out, and winced in pain as she tried to pull herself up into a sitting position. Will hurried over to help her, murmuring an,“Easy,” as he helped her sit up.

“You’re looking much better, Mac,” Jim said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she confirmed. “Come here.” He came over and gingerly wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

“I leave you in good hands,” Will said, leaning down to kiss his wife goodbye. “Make sure you watch the show.”

“Make sure you don’t fuck up too badly,” Mac called back, and he left the apartment to the sound of Mac and Jim’s low voices and soft laughter.

 

* * *

 

Will asked Mackenzie to move in with him only a few weeks after they returned home from their trip to Nebraska. He didn’t want to freak her out, but for him, this, _Mac_ , was forever. He wanted to come home with her every night, and have her face be the first thing he saw every morning. He wanted to marry her, but they had been dating less than a year, and he knew her well enough to know that would definitely send her into a tailspin.

But the moving in was an obvious next step, and so at dinner one night he brought the subject up, bracing himself for her reaction, whatever it may be.

_“You want me to move in?” She asked, her voice slightly incredulous. “We haven’t even been dating a year.”_

_“If it’s too soon, that’s okay, I’ll wait, but I don’t really want to wait, Mac. I’m ready, but I can understand if you aren’t,” he said, and she grew quiet for a moment, her fork scraping against the plate, before she finally raised her head, looking him in the eye and letting a smile crawl across her face._

_“I think I’d like that,” she answered finally, and he couldn’t help the relieved laugh that escaped, as he leaned over the table and pressed a firm kiss to her lips._

It was easy finding someone to sublet her apartment, and Mac moved into Will’s apartment pretty quickly.

To Will, after years and years of living alone, it was astonishing how easily he adapted to having her there. It was like she had always been there. He got used to her shoes by the door, her book on her nightstand, and the cups of water she left scattered around the apartment which he loved to tease her about.

_“What are you? The little girl from ‘Signs?’” Will asked._

_“Won’t you eat your words when we’re attacked by aliens with a weakness for water who inexplicably try to colonize a planet made up mostly of water?” She replied and he tipped his head back and laughed, hauling her over to him, leaving a trail of kisses up her neck._

_“I guess I will,” he answered._

He loved leaving the office at night, sliding his hand into hers, and not having to ask, “my place or yours?” It was comforting, the knowledge that she was coming home with him every night, without hesitation or question.

By the third week of co-habitation, he figured he must have lost at least four of his t-shirts to her already, but it was hard to be too upset when she appeared in nothing but his University of Nebraska Law t-shirt, her legs long and irresistible, and a crooked smile on his face.

He thought that she was adapting well too. Maybe not quite as easily as him, but she seemed happy. Sometimes he caught her with a far-off look on her face, and when he asked if anything was wrong for a split second it looked as if she was debating with herself, before she would shake her head, kissing his cheek and insisting that everything was fine.

One evening, about three months after they had been living together, he made mention of an article he had been reading in _Newsweek_ , when her head shot up at the mention

_“It was written by your ex-boyfriend,” Will continued. “It actually was an interesting article, which surprised me, because any guy who would give you up clearly has the IQ of a mop bucket.” She gave a small smile at the comment, but she also looked like she was on the verge of being sick and he frowned at her._

_“Is everything okay?” He asked, putting down the paper he had been reading. “You feeling okay?”_

_“Will, I think.…” she started, and then shook her head. “You see, Brian was…when we first…” He didn’t like the look on her face, or the way that her hands were fidgeting. She got like that when she was nervous about something. She finally met his eye, and swallowed hard. “Will.” And then she shook her head again, letting out a laugh that was more liquid than anything else, before placing her lips on his. “I love you, you know that? Brian_ was _an idiot. I know I was a little hung up on him when we first dated, but I want you to know that I’m so grateful, every day, that I have you and not him. Every day.” And he kissed her back. Brian Brenner was a fucking idiot. Mac wasn’t the only one who was grateful every day that Brian Brenner was a moron who hadn’t deserved her._

It was odd, but after that afternoon, Mac seemed to settle a little more. She seemed happier, and more settled. The times when she would get a look on her face that left Will wondering what the hell was going through her head were getting farther and fewer between.

He was happy. _They_   were happy. Domestic life seemed, surprisingly, to suit both of them. 

Three months shy of their second anniversary he bought a ring and began plotting ways to ask her to marry him. It was on his mind constantly, to the point that he began to fear that every time he opened his mouth, the words, "Will you marry me?" would just come spilling out. 

Will wasn't one for huge gestures, but asking Mac to marry him was something that he wanted to get absolutely right. 

So he waited.

* * *

When he arrived back home after the show, he was surprised to find Mac still awake. Jim was in the chair that Will had occupied earlier, and they were laughing about something when Will stepped in the door.

“Good show, honey,” Mac said, smiling at him as he shrugged out of his jacket. “I mean, obviously it’s going to be better with Jim and I there, but all things considered, tonight wasn’t too bad.”

“I should go,” Jim announced, climbing to his feet.

“Thanks for hanging out here tonight,” Will said, reaching out to shake Jim’s hand. “And I can’t wait to see you Monday in the office.”

“I wish _I_ could see you Monday in the office,” Mac pouted, and Will ignored her. He walked Jim to the door and then walked back to the bedroom, toeing off his shoes and stripping down to his boxers and a t-shirt before sliding under the covers.

It was so good to be back in his bed, with Mac here, _safe_ , that he actually groaned a little, letting out a happy sigh as Mac rolled carefully over, tucking herself into his side.

“I love you,” he whispered into the dark quiet, and her breath is warm on his neck, her hand slipping up over his chest as she repeats the words back.


	8. You know how much I love that stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little fluffy. And I'm not all that sorry about it. Enjoy!

His wife was driving him crazy, and so he was nearly as relieved as she was when the doctor finally okayed her to return to work. He secretly thought it was too soon, she was still so easily tired, but he knew better than to say anything. She was absolutely antsy to get back to work, and it would be a fight he'd just rather avoid.

Jim had started and fit in seamlessly. Mac had already confessed to Will that she had designs to set Jim up with the new girl, Maggie. She had been brought on as an intern, but she reminded Will a lot of Mac and he was really missing Mac lately in the office, so he had asked her if she would want to be hired as his assistant. She had lit up, nodding her head enthusiastically, promising him over and over that she wouldn't let him down.

"You haven't even met Maggie yet," Will reminded Mac when she told him of her romantic scheming.

"Not the point," she had huffed. "You said she reminded you of a young me, and if I wasn't head over heels in love with you and about ten years younger, I would make a move on Jim. He's a good guy!" Will had chuckled, pulling her to him and brushing a kiss on her lips.

"I know that," he told her. Jim _was_ a good guy. Will hadn't forgotten what Jim had done, he would never forget what Jim had done. "I just hate to encourage your matchmaking." But he knew that it was a lost cause. Once Mac got something in her head, that was that.

So it came as no surprise to him, when he helped her into the office to the sound of applause from their employees, that she immediately zeroed in on Maggie, getting a familiar glint in her eyes as she sidled over to the young girl.

"You must be Maggie," Mac introduced. "I'm Mac."

"I know," Maggie answered, and then blushed. "I mean, it's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope," Mac replied, turning to grin at her husband.

"Oh, yes, of course," Maggie nodded frantically. 

"So you have the undesirable task of keeping my husband organized?" Mac yelped as Will pinched her side lightly.

"I'm organized," he argued.

"Have you seen your desk?" she shot back. "It's a nightmare."

"You haven't been here in weeks! How would you know?" Will demanded, and Maggie watched the whole exchange wide-eyed, not used to the EP and anchor's barbed banter. “You’re confusing my desk with _your_ desk. Maybe we need to get you an assistant.” Mac grinned at him, looping her arm through his.

“I missed being in the office,” she sighed happily. “It was very nice to meet you Maggie. I’m glad you’ve settled in. You’ve met Jim, right?” And Will tugged her away before she could say anything else.

* * *

 

Will asked her to marry him three weeks after their second anniversary.

He had almost done it on their anniversary, but he wanted to really surprise her, and thought she might suspect, so instead he took her to a nice dinner that night, and then home where he worshipped her body for hours. When he handed her the present he had bought for her, he saw her eyes light up for a split second until she realized the size of the box was all wrong, and it was nearly enough to make him feel bad enough to scrap his plan and propose right then and there, despite the fact that the ring was sitting in the safe in his office.

His plan involved him “winning” a fall foliage weekend away in Vermont at an auction that Charlie had fixed, and whisking Mac away. Will even grumbled and complained about having to leave in order to convince Mackenzie that going away for the weekend wasn’t part of a grand master plan.

It worked. He could tell she was _thisclose_ to being irritated with him as they loaded up the rental car on Friday. They were skipping Friday’s show, but would be back by Monday’s broadcast. When Will climbed into the driver’s seat, he remembered the box with the ring buried in his bag and it made his heart race. He was nearly certain she would say yes, but Mac was a hard person to read sometimes. He wasn’t always sure what was going on in her head.

When they pulled up to the quaint Bed and Breakfast, Mac nearly squealed.

_“Look how adorable this is! It’s like a post card!” She exclaimed, climbing out of the car and looping her scarf around her neck. “There’s even a gazebo, Will! A gazebo!”_

_“I’m more excited for the large Jacuzzi that was promised in the room,” Will replied, but a smile was tugging at the corner of his lips as she came around the car and threw herself into his arms._

_“I needed this weekend away,” she admitted, kissing him softly. “I know you weren’t super happy about the timing of it, but I’m so glad you won this. Three glorious days of just you and me.”_

_“And a large Jacuzzi,” Will added, kissing her back. “Come on, I’ll grab the bags.”_

The room was everything it was promised to be. Will had worried briefly about staying in a B&B. They weren’t really his thing and he had horrible visions of dolls on rocking chairs and overwhelming floral patterns, but the room was modern enough for his tastes, featuring a large, four-poster bed, a working fireplace, and a big bathroom with the promised tub. A bottle of champagne was chilling on the dresser with two glasses and a welcoming note from the proprietors, and Mac grabbed it, turning around to flash a smile at him.

_“You pour the champagne,” Will directed. “I’ll fill up the tub.”_

Later, he started a fire and Mac set the quilt from the bed on the floor in front of it, and he cracked open the bottle of wine he had brought and they curled up around each other, swathed in the plush robes the place had provided. Mac sighed happily, and Will decided it was now or never, and reached over for his bag and pulled out the small box hidden there.

_“Mac?” He said, and she tipped her head to look at him. “I love you so much. You’re it for me. I belong to you, completely and totally. Will you marry me?” Her eyes widened._

_“What?” She asked, scrambling to sit up._

_“I said, will you marry me? I love you and will you marry me?” He asked again._

_“Yes,” she whispered._

_“I really think you should,” he started, having not heard her over the buzzing in his ears._

_“Yes,” she said, a little more loudly this time._

_“Yes?” His voice was incredulous._

_“Yes!” Their lips collided together as Mac threw herself on his lap, nearly toppling both of them over. His one hand tangled in her hair, as the other still clutched the ring._

_“I have a ring,” he said suddenly, pulling away. Mac’s hair was mussed and her lips were swollen and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His hands trembled as he slid the ring onto her finger, and then he pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his own once again._

* * *

 

Will hovered that first day that Mac was back in the office. He could see that her energy was drained by the last run down meeting, and he suggested she curl up on his couch and take a nap before the broadcast, and to his surprise, she agreed. He led her out of his office with a hand on the small of her back and she dropped onto the couch, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Don’t let me sleep too long,” she warned as she fought against exhaustion and he settled in at his desk to do some work. “Just a half hour or so.” He hummed his agreement and she was fast asleep when he looked up again five minutes later.

He woke her up an hour later, and knew that she was going to be upset with him for letting her sleep that long, but absolutely not giving one single shit. She needed the rest.

Will shook her gently, brushing a piece of hair that had fallen off her face.

“Sweetheart? Wake up,” he said softly.

“Hmm, how long did I sleep?” She asked. The truth was she could have slept longer, all night even, and both of them knew it.

“About an hour,” he admitted.

“I told you a half hour,” she accused, but her voice lacked any real edge to it. He kissed her softly.

“I know, and I’m not sorry,” he shot back and she smiled a little, as Will helped her sit up and she rubbed her eyes. He dropped down next to her, pulling her close to him and Mac let her head drop down to his shoulder.

“I’m just happy to be back,” she said with a soft sigh.

“You and me both,” he replied, ghosting a kiss across the top of her head. “You have no idea.”


	9. I've made the same mistake

It was about a month or so after Mac’s return to work that Will was asked to attend a panel at Northwestern University.

“I can say no,” he offered. They were in bed, work piled up around them. Mac’s glasses were perched on her nose, her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, her laptop balanced on her knees. She was still trying to desperately catch up from the work she missed while she was recovering.

“Why would you say no?” She asked, turning to face her husband and sliding the glasses off to give him her full attention. Will shrugged. “I don’t know what that shrug means.” 

“I just don’t know, with everything going on, if it’s a good idea that I go,” he answered with a sigh. “You’re still recovering, and I just…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mac huffed, interrupting him. “I’m fine. And if you said you would go, you should go.” 

“Fine,” he sighed. “Would you consider coming?” She looked surprised.

“To the panel?” He shrugged again. The fact that he was proud of what he was doing, the work _they_ were doing, had everything to do with Mackenzie. When Charlie moved her up to producer he did it with the intention of having Mackenzie whip that place into shape. And she did. His old EP had been as obsessed with ratings as Will was, and that had caused what Mac had called the “Leno Effect.”

 _“You should be more concerned with educating the voting public than how likable you are,”_ Mac had told him on more than one occasion.And the best thing he ever did was listen to her. His faith in Mackenzie had never once wavered. He trusted her completely, wholly, and that was a unique feeling.

His childhood had not been good, and that was an understatement. He learned at a young age to rely on himself, and then Mackenzie Morgan McHale swept into his life and changed everything. When he thought about how close that knife in the hot, dusty desert had been to taking her away from him, it made him lightheaded. He had learned to rely on Mac, _trust_ Mac, and if he had lost that, lost _her_ , he would have never recovered.

Not only would Mac coming with him ease his mind about leaving her so soon after her near-death experience, but he was always _better_ at his job, better at _everything_ , when she around.

“Well sure, we could use the weekend away,” Will answered. “I’ll get us a room at the Four Seasons, and we can order room service and take advantage of the Jacuzzi tub.” He grinned at her, and began trailing a line of kisses up her neck and underneath her jaw. She placed a finger under his chin and tipped his head up, giving him a deep kiss and smiling against his lips.

“I’ll think about it, okay? There’s just so much going on, and I’m still trying to get caught up,” she replied, and he sighed, his face dropping in disappointment. “It’s not a no, Will. It’s a let me try to work it out, okay?”  And he nodded, and she pushed aside the rest of the papers and climbed onto his lap, tangling a hand in his hair and kissing him hard.

“Don’t you have work to do?” He asked, but there was a smirk on his face.

“Shush,” she answered, deepening the kiss, work forgotten for the moment. “Stop talking. Just. No more talking.” And as usual, he listened.

 

* * *

 

Their engagement was a short one.

It surprised Will; he had half thought that Mac might want a little bit of time to get used to the idea. He was always afraid he was moving too fast for her, but she had said yes, yes, _yes_ without hesitation.

On the night of their engagement, curled up on the blanket in front of the fireplace, another blanket draped over them, and Mac’s ring the only thing she was wearing, Will thought life couldn’t possibly get better than this. He so often spent his time waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it was _such_ a nice change of pace to not to feel that way.

_“I’m going to love you forever,” he had whispered, brushing a piece of her hair off her face. Mac had turned to him, pressing a kiss to his pulse point and then to his lips._

_“Let’s get married as soon as possible,” she said between kisses. He had been surprised, but her voice was firm._

_“You don’t want to wait?” He asked, and she shook her head._

_“I just want to be married to you,” she answered honestly. “I don’t need a big wedding, I don’t think I_ want _a big wedding. I just want to be your wife."_

When they arrived home that Sunday, she had immediately called her parents to tell them the news, and he hovered in the doorway while she made the call. A soft, “ _oh_ ,” escaped her lips, and she had turned to face him, her eyes watery and a hand over her mouth. Her ring sparkled in the warm, autumn sunlight and the look she gave him, _Jesus_ , he wondered if it was possible to bottle a look like that up, keep it forever.

She hung up with her parents and was on her feet and over to him in an instant.

_“You called my dad,” she had said, sniffling. “You called and asked him for my hand in marriage.”_

_“I did,” he confirmed, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking uncharacteristically sheepish._

_“That’s so…” she took a deep breath. “He really appreciated that, you know?” And Will_ did _know. Sir John McHale was an old-fashioned sort of fellow, and Will still was trying to make the best impression he could on his future father-in-law. And he also knew that as modern and independent as Mac was, she still appreciated the gesture, as antiquated as it may be._

_“I thought he might,” Will answered, and she wrapped her arms around his middle, knocking her forehead against his shoulder._

_“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”_

They were married three months later in a relatively small ceremony at her parent’s home in England. She had taken his breath away when she appeared on her father’s arm at the end of the aisle in a long, lace ivory gown. He had rocked back on his heels impatiently when he saw her; he had never been very good at waiting, and he had to remind himself to stay still and to not jog up the rest of the way to meet her.

She was everything he hadn’t realized he wanted. He had assumed, incorrectly it turned out, that he was going to be a bachelor forever. There had been many women before Mac, but none had fit, none had made him think about marriage and forever, and he figured he simply wasn’t the marrying type.

It turned out that it _wasn’t_ that he didn’t want to be married; it was that he didn’t want to be married to anyone but Mackenzie.

He swept her into his arms when he was told he could kiss the bride and kissed her senseless, and when they finally parted, his new wife ( _wife_ , he had a _wife_ ), grinned at him.

_“Hi, husband,” she said softly. He barely registered the sound of applause and whistles behind them as he leaned in to kiss her again._

_“Hi, wife,” he replied._

 

* * *

A breaking news story stopped Mac from attending the panel, and Will cursed having to go when he slid out of bed early that Saturday morning to catch his flight. Mac had only rolled into bed a few hours previously, and she was dead to the world as he got dressed and grabbed his bag, rolling it out to the living room before heading back in to say goodbye to his wife.

He leaned down and brushed a light kiss against her cheek and she stirred, blinking sleepily at him, and smiling a drowsy smile.

“Have a safe flight,” she instructed, and he softly kissed her mouth, before kissing the tip of her nose.

“I wish you were coming,” Will sighed.

“Me too, sweetheart,” her voice was apologetic. “Go make me proud, okay?” And he nodded, giving her one last kiss before having to go before he missed his flight.

The flight was short, and soon he was being swept into the hotel and it was only there, away from Mac for the first time since he saw her broken body in the hospital bed in Landstuhl, that he finally started to crack. If he was honest, it was a long time coming. He had been trying to keep it together for his wife, and for his team, and he hadn’t really let himself think about how her stabbing had affected _him_.

Charlie had been the only one to ask how Will was handling all of it, and Will had waved off the question.

_“I wasn’t the one who was hurt,” he scoffed. “I’m fine. I’m really fine.”_

Charlie had looked like he hadn’t quite believed him, but there was so much going on that neither of them had the time to dwell on it.

Now, though, he was hundreds of miles from his wife. He was too far away to see her, feel her, be certain and sure that she was alive and well. It started with a news story about Peshawar on television as he was changing out of his clothes into the suit he was wearing to the panel. The images on the screen were of a protest, similar to the one that Mac and Jim had been caught up in, and his heart started pounding.

 _Fuck_ , he thought. She must have been terrified. All those people. All that noise.

The thought of her scared, in pain, left him momentarily paralyzed. His fingers trembled as he dialed her number, and when it went straight to voicemail, he felt sick.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, fortunately stopping them from spiraling even darker, and he finished getting ready, trying desperately to push the image of Mac bleeding, _dying_ , on the streets of Peshawar out of his mind.

He normally never minded these types of things, but the lights were too bright on that stage, his tie too tight around his neck. The moderator kept pushing for a more in-depth answer from him, and he was trying to keep his answers non-committal. It wasn’t a secret, which way he voted, what he believed in. Mac had been adamant on this point when she had taken over the show.

_“People need to know what your biases are,” she insisted. “It makes you more trustworthy as a source.”_

It didn’t help that Will found the questions he was answering fucking stupid, and he just wanted to get this done with, get back on a plane, and get the fuck back to his wife in New York. He had left her with a pile of work, and she had insisted that she could handle it while he was gone, but being away from her was making him itchy.

“What makes America the greatest country in the world?” What a dumb fucking question. He tried to get out of it, tried to joke his way out of answering, and then he looked up and was certain, _certain_ , for a moment that he saw his wife sitting there.

 _“It’s not,”_ a sign she was holding read. _“But it can be.”_ He blinked and it wasn’t Mac sitting there. That was ridiculous. She was at home, in New York, where she was probably buried in a mountain of work that had to be done by Monday.

It’s not. But it can be. That would be something she would say. _It_ could be.  But right at that moment it was a country that was so hated around the world that an American journalist could be stabbed while covering a protest simply because she was _there_ and she was American.

“It’s not the greatest country in the world, professor.  That’s my answer,” he said, he blinked again and saw Mac sitting in the audience, her mouth open. _She’s not here_ , he reminded himself. And blinked again and saw her covered in blood, hanging limply from Jim’s arms as he rushed through the crowded streets.

“You’re saying,” the professor said, and Will nodded.

“Yes.”

“Let’s talk about,” the professor started, and Will interrupted.

“Sharon, the NEA is a loser.  Yeah, it accounts for a penny out of our paycheck, but he,” Will gestured to the other guy on the panel, “gets to hit you with it anytime he wants.  It doesn’t cost money…it costs votes.  It costs airtime and column inches.  You know why people don’t like liberals?  Cause they lose.  If liberals are so fucking smart, how come they lose so god damn always?” Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t. The words came pouring out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them.

It was only when he finished with his rant that he noticed that everyone had pulled out a camera or a cell phone and was filming his tirade. And it wasn’t unusual, not since Mackenzie took over producing the show, for Will to say something that was considered unpopular or incendiary, but he knew, _knew_ , as soon as he had finished that he had stepped over the line with this one.

And Jesus, his wife was going to kill him.


	10. I know the awful ache

Will rushed off stage, ripping off his microphone and cursing under his breath.

Mac was going to absolutely _slaughter_ him for that. This was why he needed her there. This is why he always needed her there. He hustled past the photographers and slid into the waiting car. He tried Mac again as soon as the door was closed behind him, and it went to voicemail again. Will swore under his breath as he listened to Mac's voice telling him she couldn't answer the phone right now.

"Hey," he said sighing. "It's me. You're going to hear some things about me basically melting down at the panel today." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I thought I saw you in the audience. I know you're at home, but I _thought_ I saw you, and I just...I don't know. Call me back, okay? I'm going to make some calls to do damage control." He swallowed hard. "I love you. I'll be home soon." He ended the call and before he could lose his nerve, he called his agent and his publicist and asked how bad it was.

"Well, it's not good," his publicist admitted. "I'm already on it. Everyone knows about Mac and the stabbing, you're very sympathetic right now. We're going to blame stress and a reaction to vertigo medicine."

"Vertigo medicine?" Will scoffed.

"Will," was all his publicist said.

"Yeah, okay," Will closed his eyes. "Okay. Thanks. Keep me posted." He hung up and immediately his phone rang. Charlie. He knew it was just a matter of time before Charlie called to rip him a new one.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Charlie asked by way of greeting. Will deserved that.

"I wasn't."

"You need to take some time off," Charlie said. "Take Mac on a vacation. God knows she deserves it. Take Mac and hide away on some island somewhere and drink cute little drinks with cute little umbrellas and calm the fuck down."

"She just got back, there's no way she's going to want to take a vacation," Will tried to argue.

"We're going to take care of this, but you need to lie low for a little while. Mac will understand," Charlie instructed.

"Is she there by the way? I can't get a hold of her," Will asked.

"Haven't seen her," Charlie replied. "And I don't want to see either of you for at least two weeks. Two weeks, Will. Non-negotiable." And with that, Charlie hung up. The car pulled up in front of the hotel and Will hopped out, hurrying inside and straight to the elevator.

He told himself he'd try Mac again when he got inside the room, and keep trying until he got in touch with her. He needed to hear her voice. She was going to be furious with him, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted to talk to her, hear her voice, even if that voice was shouting expletives at him.

Will slid the key into the door and it beeped open and he stepped inside only to hear his wife's voice, livid and _loud_.

"William Duncan McAvoy! What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" Mac stood there, her arms on her hips and her face flushed red with anger, and Will knew enough to know that it was the wrong time to tell her how beautiful she looked when she was worked up about something. It was part of the reason that he liked to goad her as often as he did. That and she was fun to argue with. She went toe to toe with him in a way that no one else had ever dared to.

"Mac," he breathed out her name and he could see some of her anger deflate.

"It's not. But it can be," she told him fiercely. "That's _all_ you had to say. It's not, but _it can be_."

"It _was_ you," he cried. At least he wasn't crazy.

"I wanted to surprise you," Mac answered, and she moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against his chest. "What happened up there, Will?" Her voice was softer this time, the words muffled slightly by her face turned into his jacket.

"I don't know," he admitted. They were both silent for a few moments, before Will dropped a kiss into her hair and spoke up again. "Charlie wants us to take a vacation. I know you just got back and you're already struggling to catch up but he thinks..."

"Okay," she interrupted.

"Really?" Will sounded surprised and she tilted her head up so she could look at him.

"Don't sound so surprised," she admonished. "You need some time off. We'll take some time off. You are more important than work, Will. Don't be an idiot." She gave him a small smile to soften her words, and he kissed her, long and hard. "We'll stay here tonight and fly home tomorrow morning, pack a bag and get on the first plane the hell out of New York."

"The first plane?" He teased.

"Well, the first plane going somewhere warm and tropical," Mac corrected. He kissed her again. "But don't think we're not going to talk about what the hell happened up there today. Because we're going to. Just because I'm worried doesn't mean I'm not angry."

"Yes dear," he muttered against her lips.

"I ordered room service," she told him, tugging off his tie. "We're not leaving this room for anything until we leave for the airport tomorrow."

"God," Will sighed. "I love you."

* * *

 The first question anyone asked after they had gotten married was when they were going to have kids. This line of question was inevitable and annoyed Mackenzie to no end.

  
_"It's an intrusive question," she would huff. "Not to mention, none of their business. At fucking all."_ Will would smile at his new wife (wife! _wife!)_ and listen to her rant. Her mother was the worst. Subtly at first, and than gradually not so subtle. Reminding Mackenzie that she was getting older, and Will was getting older, and she would simply love to be a grandmother.

  
_"You are a grandmother," Mac pointed out._ Her brother Freddie had three little ones. Her mother was already a grandmother. But Helene McHale had continued to pester her only daughter.

The truth was, though Mac was hesitant to tell her mother and break her heart, they didn't want kids. She loved being an aunt. But she loved giving them back to their parents.

_"I think I'm too selfish to be a mother," Mac had admitted. "Is that terrible?"_

  
_"No, sweetheart, no," Will answered, tugging her to him._ Will didn't necessarily agree with her assessment. He didn't think it was a matter of selfishness, he thought it was a matter of wants and priorities. He thought that Mac would make a wonderful mother, but if she didn't want to be one, that was okay with him. He had never particularly wanted to be a father. His relationship with his father was complicated at best, and offered a whole host of issues that he'd rather avoid having to deal with. He wasn't sure what kind of father he'd make. A pretty shitty one, if he had to guess. It wasn't a matter of just loving the kid, because he'd love anything that was a byproduct of Mackenzie, it was a matter of doing what was right by a kid. Their jobs, their lives were not conducive to having children, and while he was sure they could change and accommodate for children, they didn't _want_ to. And they didn't need, _Mac_ didn't need, to explain their choices to anyone, not even her mother. 

_"I just love our life, just us, I love my job and I've just never felt an urge to be a mother," Mac continued. "If you want to be a father, it's something we can talk about..."_

  
_"I don't," he assured her. "All I want is you."_

" _You, sir, certainly have a way with words," Mac had said with a shy smile, putting both hands on his chest and leaning in for a kiss. "Come on, let's go_ not _make a baby."_

* * *

They chose St. Bart's. It had been where they had gone for their honeymoon, and Will made sure to book the same private villa as the last time. They flew back to New York and were only home long enough to pack. After the plane had lifted from the tarmac at JFK, Mac weaved her fingers through his and gave his hand a squeeze.

"It'll all blow over by time we come back," she insisted, and Will appreciated the effort, but knew that she was wrong. He had stepped out of the shower in the hotel that morning to hear the tail end of Mac's conversation on the phone with Charlie.

  
_"Elliott will fill in and Don will cover for me,"_ she clarified. _"It'll be fine. Tell the staff that they can always get a hold of me, but they are in no way to contact Will while we're gone. We'll see you in two weeks. He needs this Charlie. What the hell was he thinking?"_ He glanced out to see Mac rubbing her temples with a deep frown on her face. She listened intently to whatever Charlie was saying and then nodded a couple of times. _"Right, yeah, no, it's fine, Charlie, honestly. I will, thanks."_ Will waited another second and then stepped out, and Mac quickly forced a smile. _"Good shower, darling?"_ She wasn't fooling him. And he hated that he was a fucking mess that she had to clean up. She still was recovering, for Christ's sake.

When he mentioned this on the flight to St. Bart's, she had rolled her eyes at him.

"Yeah, because the worst thing for someone recovering is two weeks of laying on a beach in the warm sun," Mac replied. "It's not a hardship, Will, going on vacation with my husband, stop behaving like it is." She bumped her shoulder into his with a grin, before reaching down and pulling out a book to read. Will was surprised to see that it was a fiction book.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Are you actually reading for pleasure?" He asked trying to grab the book from her hand. She swatted him away. 

"I'm on vacation, buster," Mac answered tartly. "We're going to be miles away from New York, and we're not going to worry about any of it, _any_ of it, for two glorious weeks. I suggest you stop worrying so much and start thinking about how we're going to fill all our free time for the next couple of weeks."

"Oh," Will couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I know _exactly_ how I intend to spend them."


End file.
